


Sleeping Sun

by Saedhriel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Extremely Fluffly, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Just imagine a happy future for these two, Romantic Fluff, You tell me which Frank Sinatra song they're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saedhriel/pseuds/Saedhriel
Summary: Carol smiles widely, amused, and enjoys his heat next to her. She stares at his face, sure that he will open his eyes at any moment, but as minutes pass by and his breathing becomes slower and deeper, she frowns.


  “Are you awake?” she asks, softly.


  “No,” he grunts, eyes close.

 Canon Caryl at some point in the future. Rated as extremely fluffly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know how much I needed to write this until I started it! I just wanted to write an oneshot where they are happy. I want to think that something similar will happen at some point in the future.

Something awakes her. Maybe it’s the bite of cold on the exposed skin of her back, or maybe it’s the deep breathing next to her. The pale winter light enters through the window and plays on her face. She blinks several times until her eyes get used to the weak light.

She needs a moment to orient herself. The memories of the past night slowly overflow her mind and a joyful smile crosses her face. Feeling a warm sensation on her belly, she sighs deeply and stretches out as long as she can. As the skin of her shoulders and chest becomes exposed, a shiver runs down her spine, giving her goosebumps, and she misses the comforting touch of the blanket on her bare skin.

She looks around, searching it, and discovers him lying next to her, completely wrapped in the blanket. He has his back to her and she can barely see his face among his wild locks. His deep breathing confirms that he’s still deeply asleep, and she moves carefully to not wake him up.

But it’s cold outside and she needs the blanket, so she moves closer to him and tugs on its edge to cover herself. As soon as the blanket starts to move, his peaceful breathing stops suddenly, and she feels his unconscious tension.

“Sssssh, it’s me,” she whispers. She leans on to kiss him in the shoulder, now uncovered. “It’s me. You stole my part of the blanket.”

He relaxes as soon as he recognizes her voice, and taking a deep, sleepy breath, he eases his grasp over the fabric and turns around onto his back until he faces her. He blinks lazily under the light as their eyes meet, and he moves closer to her like a giant cat and spreads the blanket over her, making sure that it totally covers her. When he finishes, he closes his eyes again as if she wasn’t there.

Carol smiles widely, amused, and enjoys his heat next to her. She stares at his face, sure that he will open his eyes at any moment, but as minutes pass by and his breathing becomes slower and deeper, she frowns.

“Are you awake?” she asks, softly.

“No,” he grunts, eyes close. His face is so inexpressive when he says it that Carol cannot hold back a giggle. At the sound of her laugh, the corner of his mouth slightly raises, but he forces himself to hide the smile.

“Okay, sorry,” she says. But there’s no remorse when she leans again and leaves a soft kiss in his cheek.

“’m tryin’ to sleep,” he complains, though he doesn’t sound convinced about it.

“Sleep then,” she answers as she follows the line of his jaw with her lips. Her lips are soft and her breath is warm against his skin. She starts to hum a melody that fulfills the silence around them while her lips keep tracking the skin down his neck, and the sound is so warm and caressing that he can’t think of anything else but her low voice. He doesn’t recognize the song, but he would listen to it —to her— forever.

“What’s that?” he says after a while. She stops her singing and looks at him to meet his finally open eyes.

“Frank Sinatra,” she replies. She rests her head on the pillow and looks at him. “Don’t you know him?”

“Know his name, but never listened to him.”

“I would do anything to listen to him once more,” she says, and nostalgia imbued her words. “I miss my music collection.”

“You really like him, huh?”

“Yep,” she says. She smiles with mischief at his expression. “But I like you more.”

A shy smile curls his lips, and he looks away for a brief moment.

“Glad to know it.”

Carol giggles and leans towards to kiss him in the mouth. Her lips meet his slowly, and she takes her time to taste him. Then she deepens the kiss with a satisfied sigh. There’s no roughness, no insatiable rush, only tenderness when she pushes him careful until he’s resting on his back. Her hand runs softly through his bare chest, and she can feel the goosebump both from the cold and excitement under her fingertips.

“I’m sure you would have liked him too,” she says.

“You think so?” he mumbles. He inclines his head to look at her.

“Yes,” she breathes. She continues caressing his scars while looking deeply into his eyes. She looks so calm when she keeps talking. “He has a wonderful voice, very powerful and personal. And his songs are so… “ Suddenly she stops and closes her eyes, her mouth opened in surprise. “Ah.”

She can’t finish the sentence. His hand is touching her in her very center, and that’s enough to draw any coherent thought away from her mind. She has to bury her face on the hollow of his neck as she gasps.

“Imma listen to him then,” he says, even though he is sure that she is barely aware of what he is saying. He places a soft kiss on her head as he caresses her warm spot, feeling her trembling against him. Her breathing speeds up until, some seconds later, her tension is released and a moan leaves her lips. Her face freezes on a smirk of pleasure and she lies still next to him, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” he asks. She nods and kisses him in the shoulder.

“Never been better,” she answers, and she sounds utterly happy. “You’re a great lover.”

“Stop.”

She holds back a laugh and looks at his face. He has closed his eyes again while his hand caresses her back distractedly. He looks more relaxed than she had never seen him, and a part of her wants to memorize every detail of it and keep it on her memory.

But she is also aware of his hardness. Slowly, she gets up —ignores the cold on her back where the blanket slides down— and kneels besides him. He watches her with squinted eyes when she straddles him, and carefully guides him inside her with a sigh of pleasure.

Their eyes lock as she starts moving up and backwards in a delicious slowness. He follows her movements with his hips, and places his hands on her thighs. They both share the upcoming tension, the electric expectation, as she feels him deep inside. He comes after some erratic, uncontrolled breathes, and she kisses him deeply, feeling his moan under her lips, breathing him in while her tongue caresses his.

“You okay?” she asks, slightly mocking, when they separate, still a few centimeters away from his face.

“Feeling better than Frank Sinatra,” he says, sighing deeply. He passes a hand over his face and then stares at her with a satisfied expression.

“Don’t be silly,” she laughs.

She raises a hand and brushes away the locks on his forehead before pecking him. Then she gets back to his side and nestles against him, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder until she finds a comfortable position. Her arms rests over his chest, her fingertips drawing circles in his sensible skin.

He stares at the ceiling, hearing nothing but her calm breathing next to him, the warmth of her body against his, the soft touch of the cover over them. It feels warm and safe. Her touch is not strange anymore, and he has learnt to love it.

“I’m glad that you came back,” he whispers. It takes him so much to admit it, but he needs to speak the truth. He needs her to hear it.

The caresses on his skin stop. She doesn’t say a word at first.

“Me too,” she says, finally, her voice as soft as a ray of sunlight. She tightens her embrace, just as if she wanted to make sure that he is still with her. Neither of them says anything else.

The pale light from the morning becomes brighter as the sun rises lazily in the sky. The house is in silence, time seems to freeze with every one of her caresses.

It’s a lazy morning, after all.


End file.
